


Holding the Moon

by CatgirlTheCrazy



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, no Rhythm of War spoilers, shallan isn't in this but you can interpret it as pre-Shakadolin if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatgirlTheCrazy/pseuds/CatgirlTheCrazy
Summary: Urithiru learns the truth of who killed Evi Kholin. Normally, Adolin is the one who helps Kaladin out of his dark moods. It's time Kaladin returned the favor.
Relationships: Kaladin & Adolin Kholin, Kaladin/Adolin Kholin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	Holding the Moon

Empty practice grounds were like empty taverns to Kaladin. He was so used to seeing the place full of light and activity, that finding it without either of those things was downright unnerving. Usually, he couldn't go two steps without hearing the sound of weapons clashing or people grunting as they sparred. There were always a few ardents around, training warriors or maintaining the equipment. There were always spheres in every lantern bracket. A poorly lit training ground was an invitation to injury.

Tonight, there was only one person here. Only one sphere for light. It was rare for Kaladin to find Adolin here without his shardplate, but tonight he only wore simple sparring clothes. He had a sandbag set up in the middle of the room. He was punching the absolute crap out of it. No grace or finesse to his movements. Just one wild swing after another, like an overeager man breaking rocks.

The drafts of Dalinar's autobiography had come on Urithiru like the Everstorm. No stormwall, no abrupt onslaught of fury like you got with highstorms. Instead it came on slowly. From the Kholin scribes who copied it out, to their families, to the officers and workers of the tower, the contents of that text spread like fevers in the Weeping. In under a week, highprinces and water carriers alike knew that Dalinar Kholin had burned a city to the stone, and in the process, killed his own wife. Adolin's mother.

As soon as he heard, Kaladin made sure to check in on the younger Kholins. How could he not? One was his friend, the other still technically a subordinate. Both of them had already known- Dalinar had the decency to warn them before the news went public. It was hard to tell how Renarin was taking it. Kaladin had always had difficulty reading that kid. But Teft was keeping him occupied with training, and Rock was better at being a sympathetic ear than Kal had ever been. So Kaladin tried not to hover.

As for Adolin…  _ You're the tenth person to ask me that, bridge boy. Leave me in peace. _ And Kaladin had. It seemed the respectful thing to do. Once Shallan got back from whatever infiltration kept her currently out of contact, his friend would have all the support he needed. It wasn't until Syl summoned him to the practice grounds in the middle of the night that Kaladin reconsidered that assessment. 

"He told me he was fine," Syl whispered, "but I think he's lying. He sounded like you when you tell people you're fine."

Kaladin grunted. "Of course he isn't fine Syl. But if he needs to work his feelings out with training, we should probably let him." Almighty knew Kaladin had been there. Exhausting the body till you had no room to think about your grief had its merits. But damnation it hurt to see it happening to Adolin. Adolin, who sometimes seemed like nothing could dim the sun behind his smile. Adolin, whose eyes now stared ahead like empty pits.

"Yes, but he shouldn't have to be alone," Syl said. She took the form of a skyeel and wound around Adolin protectively. 

The sandbag dented inwards as Adolin let off one last punch. With the slow acceleration of a falling tree, the sandbag toppled over. Adolin bent double with a groan, exhaustionspren puffing around him like jets of dust. Immediately, Kaladin was there with a ladle of water. Adolin accepted it, as he did the next ladle Kaladin brought. Then he tried to wave Kaladin off. "I appreciate the thought," he said, "But I don't need you to mind me."

"Maybe I just wanted to get in some late night spear practice." Adolin gave him a flat stare. Kaladin gave in. "Ok, fine, I wasn't. Syl was worried about you, and she brought me."

"Syl?" Adolin looked surprised at that.

"She explores the tower at night."

"Huh. Well, tell her I'm glad she cares." Apparently Syl was still invisible to him. "But I'm good here." He turned to reset the sandbag. It was at that point the prince's hands caught the dim spherelight, and Kaladin realized Adolin's knuckles were bleeding.

Kaladin's surgeon's instincts woke like sleeping axehounds who smelled the rain. He grabbed Adolin's hands and dragged them under the light. "Storms, Adolin, how long have you been at this?!"

Adolin tried to pull his hands out of Kaladin's grip, but Kaladin hung on. The scrapes were hardly the worst injury Kaladin had ever seen. In fact, as training accidents went, it was downright minor. But for his hands to get this bad from punching a sandbag? Adolin would have had to have ignored significant pain for a very long time. _Check that he hasn't sprained something._ Kaladin felt at Adolin's wrist. "Does it hurt when I press here?"

"No." Adolin pulled harder and finally yanked himself out of Kaladin's grip. "Honestly Kal, it's not that bad. Renarin can heal me later."

"Renarin can-?" Kaladin sputtered. This storming man.  _ "That doesn't make it ok for you to hurt yourself, Adolin." _

Adolin looked away. "I need this, Kal. If I don't exhaust myself, I… I  _ obsess _ over all of it." 

Kaladin softened at that. Storms, but he knew exactly what Adolin was talking about. How many times had he done this exact thing after Tien died? Worked himself so hard until his mind had no strength left to think about how much he hurt? He could remember at least one time when Sergeant Hav had needed to order him not to keep training through injuries. "Well. At least let me treat this before you do anything else."

Adolin raised an eyebrow. "Seems kind of pointless. I can just have Renarin heal it instantly."

"Your brother isn't here. Unless you plan to wake him up over this, you'll let me treat this the normal way." 

A shadow of a smile flickered across Adolin's face, like the sun shining through thick clouds. He gave a tired mock salute. "Yes, sir!" Kaladin rolled his eyes.

Fortunately, the practice grounds kept basic medical supplies on hand in case of training injuries. After washing off the blood with water, Kaladin was able to daub Adolin's knuckles with lister's oil and wrap them in bandages. Adolin made a small grunt as he did. "Too tight?" Kaladin asked.

Adolin shook his head. "No, no. It's just- I'm so used to seeing you flying about like a paragon of soldierhood. I forget you know how to do things like this."

Kaladin didn't know what to say to that. He tied off the last bandage. "You'll probably want to change these out tomorrow."

"Or I can take it to my brother with the divinely-granted healing abilities and have him fix it completely."

"Or that."

Adolin glanced at the fallen sandbag. "You think you could help me set that up again?"

Kaladin gaped. "You want to keep going?!"

"I'm not too tired to think yet. So yes, I want to keep going."

"Your hand!"

"Protected now by these nice bandages you provided."

Kaladin crossed his arms. "No. Absolutely not."

Adolin's face darkened. "Fine." He leaned down to pick up the sandbag.

Kaladin grabbed his shoulder. "If you don't put that down right now, I'm summoning Syl to cut it in half."

Adolin turned on him. "I appreciate your concern, Kal," he said, voice tight, "But it's time for you to butt out."

Kaladin was completely unmoved. "If you keep going, you _ will _ hurt yourself."

"I told you. I  _ need _ this." His words were angry, but it wasn't an angerspren he drew. It was an agonyspren, like an upside down face on the floor. The raw pain in his eyes was hard to look at. It was like looking at an open wound, still bleeding and vulnerable.

"You don't have to stop working out," Kaladin said finally. "But you do need to do something else. Something not so hard on your hands."

"Like what?" 

He thought about it. "Spar with me." 

"What?" 

"Spar with me. Quarterstaffs, or hand to hand. You'll have a harder time breaking your hands on me, at least." And it would give Kaladin more control over the situation.

Adolin glanced at the battered punching bag, then shook his head forcefully. "No. Fighting an actual person… That's a bad idea for me right now."

"I've got Stormlight. You don't need to worry about me."

Adolin barked out a horrified laugh. "What?! No! Weren't  _ you _ just telling  _ me _ that being able to heal yourself doesn't make it ok?!" Kaladin pursed his lips, annoyed at himself. Adolin had him there. Perhaps Kaladin should have wondered why he had such a double standard about this, but now wasn't the time to examine that. Instead, Kaladin pulled two blunted practice swords from the equipment racks and handed one to Adolin. The prince stepped back. "I told you, I'm not going to-"

"Zahel's been teaching me sword katas," Kaladin interrupted. "One of them takes two people. You know the one?" Adolin nodded slowly. "Run through it with me." Kaladin offered the practice sword again. Adolin stared at the sword for a long moment. Hesitantly, he took it. Kaladin set the pair of them two sword-lengths apart in the middle of the practice grounds. Then, they began.

Two-person katas were more like a choreographed dance than actual combat. Kaladin lunged in for a prescribed strike. Adolin stepped back for the proper block. Adolin swept Kaladin's sword to the side in an exaggerated imitation of real combat. Kaladin would step aside and twist it into a disarming motion. The blades clicked softly with each careful exchange. The point was to practice responding to your opponent's moves until it became embedded in your muscle memory.

When you knew a kata well, they became a kind of meditation. Your body carried you through the forms, while your mind floated free. Kaladin could see that peace settle over Adolin like a warm blanket, and he knew he'd done the right thing. When they reached the end of the kata, Kaladin saw Adolin's shoulders tense, and the peace started to evaporate. So Kaladin returned them to the starting position, and started them again Adolin's eyes unfocused as his body feel into the trace of a kata he knew by heart. Kaladin started them through it a third time, and Adolin pushed to go a little bit faster. Kaladin let him. That was how it was supposed to go: you started off slow to be sure you got the forms right. Then you sped up, until you moved at combat speeds.

By the fourth time through the kata, sweat was beading on Adolin's forehead. Kaladin was making mistakes, but he didn't care. Tonight wasn't about Kaladin mastering the sword. It was about helping Adolin forget his pain for a little while. 

By the fifth time through, the practice swords flashed through the air like windspren. Kaladin breathed in a little stormlight to keep from faltering. When they finished, Adolin finally stopped. He didn't bother finding a seat to rest. Instead he collapsed on the sand where they stood. The practice sword landed with a thump next to him. Adolin lay there, panting like a bellows amidst a swarm of exhaustionspren.

Kaladin fetched more water from the barrel. Adolin drank it greedily. "Thank you," he gasped.

"It's just water. It's no trouble," Kaladin said, settling down on the ground next to him.

"Not just for that. Thank you for not making me talk."

"Oh, well." Kaladin chuckled ruefully. "That wasn't hard. You're not a subtle man, princeling. If you wanted to talk, you'd talk. All I had to do was not argue."

Adolin huffed a laugh. They sat there for a long moment. Slowly, Adolin's breath calmed down to something reasonable. The little stormlight Kaladin had taken in puffed away. "Does it bother you?" Adolin asked. "Knowing what my father did?"

It was a good question. Kaladin took his time answering. "Yes, it does bother me. I followed your father because I believed he was different from other lighteyes I served. Better. Finding out he'd done  _ that? _ It's… well, 'upsetting' seems an inadequate word, but I've got nothing better." He took in a deep breath. "But the Ideals teach that it's always possible to change into a better person. And Dalinar's done that. He's still doing that. So in a lot of ways, nothing's really changed for me."

Adolin ground the palms of his hands into his eyes. "In my head, I know he's not that man anymore. Hell, I can even admire him for working so hard to be better. I still love him, and I want to forgive him. But damnation. I just can't."

"Maybe you don't have to forgive him," Kaladin said softly.

"What?"

"It's easy to talk about how wonderful it is that someone's grown when they haven't hurt you personally. If you'd asked me that question about, say, Gaz? You'd have gotten a very different answer."

Adolin nodded slowly. "The thing is, I think about what Mother would say, if she saw me now. I know she'd want me to forgive him. She'd have forgiven him in a heartbeat. She forgave everyone... everything." His voice cracked, and he broke down into sobs.

Kaladin felt completely lost. Not because he was a stranger to crying people, but… well, usually Adolin was the one helping Kaladin through emotional breakdowns. Kaladin felt like he'd been handed a weapon he'd never held before and tossed into the ring with a master.

_ What does Adolin do to help me? _ Usually, he kept Kaladin distracted. Gave him a goal, or something to focus on. Anything to keep Kaladin from getting stuck in his own head. He took one look at Adolin, curled up and sobbing on the floor, and knew that wasn't what he needed. He didn't have the gaping void of emotion that sometimes took Kaladin. But if not that, then what?

_ Hugs. He likes hugs. _ Granted, he usually reserved them for Shallan and close family, but Kaladin had no other ideas. He crawled over to where Adolin lay. Slowly, as if reaching out to a feral axehound, Kaladin put his arms around the other man. Adolin hesitated only a moment. Then he collapsed into Kaladin's arms, sobbing into his shoulder. They sat there for uncountable minutes. Kaladin held the prince, stroking his hair softly. He thought of his own mother, and how she'd sometimes comforted him like this when he'd been a child, woken by nightmares. What would it have been like, to lose that as young as Adolin had?

Slowly, Adolin's grief subsided like a river after the storm. "Your mother sounds like a wonderful person," Kaladin murmured into his hair. "I'm sorry I never got to meet her."

"You've no idea. I'm sorry she didn't get to meet you or Shallan. She'd have loved you both."

"Can you tell me about her?"

And Adolin did. He told how she liked reading stories of far-off romance. About the care and delicacy she put into her glyphwards. About her love for simple pleasures. Beautiful sunsets, calm evenings by the fire, the smell of incense. Kaladin held him and let him talk well into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> The two person kata is very loosely inspired by the [two person sword form routines of Tai Chi](https://youtu.be/CtxiWyBdipU).


End file.
